Paradise Island (14 page)

“You know damn well what you were doing,” he growled.

She regarded him. As far as she knew, the men she used her voice on never knew that she did it, although she had never really stayed to find out what their reaction had been upon their waking.

“You sing, and then an overpowering need to sleep overtakes me. It has happened twice before and twice it was your voice in my head, your mind blending with mine. The old lady, she knew didn't she, when she told you about it. She called it your gift.” His staggered to his feet until he stood at his full height, ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the already unruly waves. “Estelle, what do you do to me?”

Estelle stepped towards him, hesitated, retreated. Her voice — her gift — was the one thing that was entirely hers. Her secret to use, to keep hidden. Only Dalia and Claire knew of it, knew what she could do and in turn she knew about their gifts, it had been their best defense against all enemies, but to let somebody else, a man, know of it, was something she could not do. Even if that man was the only one that could ignite such a response in her body and scorch her mind in doing so. Even if that man was so unlike any she had let so close to her before. It was unexplored territory, and one she hesitated to examine further.

Territory that was the only thing, that despite her combined defenses, her life of experiences, her mind that screamed to keep it her gift a secret, territory that now she had a brief taste of, was one that she craved to scrutinize further, but knew with all certainty, with all that she was, that to do so would leave her forever changed.

“I … I do nothing to you,” Estelle's husky voice reached him. He tried to ignore the pull in his gut even by the sultry tone of it. He still suffered the glowing effects of their kiss. Never before had he been so affected by a woman, even knowing she was a woman he should not touch.

Estelle had used some sort of magic, some bewitching trick that made him lose consciousness. She'd used her ruse twice on him, he now recognized the first stages and the state that he would be in if she progressed further. Even if she wasn't aware of it, he was sure her gift was provided by some sort of deep magic.

His mind was still foggy, but it was slowly dissipating. Whatever Estelle did to him, it was indeed powerful and if the old woman could be believed, it was a skill she could hone to more perfection than she had already. Handy for her, but she had also felt that her only way to stop their kiss was to use it on him.

He was horrified that she felt that she would need to go to that length. A simple ‘no', even a whisper of it, and he would have ceased. But she had not given him the chance. Had used it to protect herself. To distance herself.

He was not going to let the matter drop, but now, while she would be on the defensive, was not the time. However, he was not going to let her forget the passion he knew she'd felt,
responded
to. There was one aspect of her trick that was to his advantage, he had touched her mind and he knew what she was feeling when she used her tactic. Although she had been on the defense, there was no denying how her body had heated in that short time, or the excitement, the yearning for more, that he sensed when their minds had touched. He had never experienced such heightened desire before. To have that reaction, to know she had the same, was something he could not drop and no matter how far she pushed back he knew with full certainty he would push back harder.

When he faced her, she had her stubborn chin notched high. She had re-laced her shirt, pinned up her hair and re-sheathed her sword. Although she had the distinct air of having regained control, he spied the uncertainty in her eyes, the hesitation in her stance and as he neared, her mouth still swollen from their intimate kiss.

She swiveled on the balls of her feet and stalked away from him. He bent to pick up his sword from the ground, the one the old woman had given him and replaced it into the sheath at his hip. “You don't have to run,” he said.

She stopped and faced him, glanced around at the surrounding gums and thick shrubbery. “I'm not running. We have to find a way out of here, wherever here is.”

“I mean, you don't have to run from
me
,” he said.

She turned and walked further into the bush. “I wasn't … I mean, I don't run. Especially from you.”

He ground his teeth as she disappeared around a thick cluster of shrubs. “Estelle, I'm not here to fight you. I don't want to battle. We have to work together to find a way out of here.”

“Oh, so that's the reason for that kiss. To get me onside. Let me tell you, I can find a path to civilization without having to resort to … to getting me all worked up like that,” she said.

Before he could stop it a quick smile lit his mouth. “I got you all worked up, did I now?” She ran like a little rabbit. That was her style as he was beginning to learn, bluster, fight or run. And running was what she was doing right now. Running from the thing that scared her most.

Him.

Her brows furrowed into a deep line and she glared at him. “You are infuriating.”

He watched, amused as she very nearly stamped her foot. She caught herself just in time and stalked from him. He chuckled loud enough so that she might hear, letting satisfaction warm him when he heard her angry harrumph.

He followed her footsteps crunching through the dry leaves and sticks on the ground. He glimpsed her ramrod straight back and delectable derrière sidestep a young scraggly gum. The soft oilskins lovingly followed the lines of her body, leading his eye to secret places that a full skirt never would permit. He allowed the now familiar kick-in-the-gut feeling roll through him, enjoying it.

She was as fiery on the inside as she was on the outside. There was no mistaking his confusing attraction to this flaming Valkyrie and it was with satisfaction he knew she felt the same way. His steps became purposeful now, a feeling of possession overtaking him. Not possession, as in a woman becoming a piece of property, but possession in the sense of caring, looking after, in an unselfish manner. The way it should be. The way he would teach her it could be between a man and a woman.

He knew it would be a battle, but one that would be worth the fight for. His father had taught him that to earn something the hard way was to know that you really wanted it. He was sure that there was no easy way for her to learn the lesson he wanted to teach her, and he hoped that the end result would be something he really did want after all, but one more glance as she flicked her blazing hair so that it fell down her back and the way it resulted in the tightening of his stomach and pull in his groin, he knew it would be an encounter he would surely enjoy.

But for now he had to stop her charging through the bush in a place where they had no idea where they were. “Estelle, would you wait a moment,” he called.

“Don't you lay another hand on me! And I would prefer it if you engaged me as Captain as I have previously requested,” she called over her shoulder.

The enjoyment of their impending battle retracted a little. He ground his teeth. “Captain! You have no idea where you are going. Can you stop so that we may devise a plan?”

“My plan is to find a path or a road, and in my experience you can't do that without walking to find one.”

“Will you stop acting like a spoiled female and talk to me for a minute,” Gregory said to her back.

She stopped short and rounded on him. “Spoiled female! I'll have you know I have been to the most inhospitable places in the world and have still found my way home. So my plan is to walk and search. It has worked before and it will work now.”

“My plan is to look for a river, like the one we left and follow it downstream. There is always civilization on a river. If we go back we will have water to drink, a place to camp and fish if we can catch them,” he said.

“Where there is a river, so may there be Cutlass. I don't know about you, but I'm not in a hurry to catch up with him and his band again. If we cut through the bush, we may happen upon civilization with no chance of finding ourselves in another surprising circumstance.”

“If you just listened to me,
Captain
, you would find my way easier,” he said.

“And if you listen to me, Mister Marshall, we may have a chance of survival.” She glared at him before charging through the bush.

“Estelle, wait!” He followed her at a clipping pace, jogging to keep up with her.

“It's Captain!” She whirled around. Her eyes widened in surprise, her mouth make an ‘O' and her arms flailed out to her sides before her step faltered and she seemed to shrink in front of him. He reacted quickly, before his brain had a chance to comprehend, reaching to take her hands in his and pulling her towards him.

In a moment he had her close to him, arms locked around her shoulders, hand splayed in her hair at the back of her head while the shock of surprise withdrew in place of understanding of what might have happened. She drew in a sharp breath and pressed her body close into his.

“Now if you care to rest a while and listen, we might be able to work out a plan which doesn't include falling down the side of a cliff,” he said.

She jerked from his arms and he regretted having said anything at all. It only served to prod her prickly independent nature. He almost apologized. Anything to be able to have the feeling of having her in his arms again, but he had to contend with the emptiness that was there instead.

Estelle gasped. “We are closer than I knew.”

“Closer to what?”

“Paradise. We must have been thrown off course a little when we fell from the ship.” There was a gleam in her eyes so bright it could light a fire. So engaging. So tempting.

Gregory looked out at the horizon, needing to maintain a barrier, no matter how alluring it was to forget the barrier was self-inflicted. The ocean spread before them was filled with many island of differing mass. Some were so small a nest of birds would fill it, other large enough to disappear into the horizon. “That is one suggestion.”

The light in her eyes burned. “That is the only explanation. Do you have another? I would know this area of the world if I were blind.”

Gregory pressed his lips together, ignoring the smug look on her face, concentrating on the islands of various sizes dotting the ocean. “We may be near Paradise, but we are certainly not on it. How do you propose we get there? We can't swim from island to island. The water moves fast with the tide and is deep between each land mass.”

“We'll sail there.”

Gregory followed Estelle's pointing finger. He had been concentrating on the maze of islands blemishing the line of the horizon, but below them at the base of the steep cliff was the shore on which they had landed the previous night. Further down the shore line, so far it was only a small black dot, was the cave they had spent the night in. Next to the cave on the cliff line was the damage done by the canon blast. They had run full circle and come back to the cliff they had climbed.

In the middle of the bay were the black ships belonging to Jack Cutlass.

“You can't be serious!”

“Look. They are unmanned. The crew is still looking for us on land. If we don't try and leave this place they will surely find us. We have to try something.”

There was a desperation in her eyes that had him faltering. “Estelle, they are large ships.”

“And we are both experienced sailors. If we can get the mainsail up, we can catch the ocean breeze and steer away. We don't need a crew, we just have to get away before they come back to their ships while they look for us on land.”

Gregory stared at the ships. Possibilities of failure filled his mind, but she was right. They would certainly be killed if they stayed here. They could not hope to defeat so many between the two of them. It wasn't in him to give up. If there was a possibility, no matter how small, he would take it. Besides, if there was a chance, he would disable Estelle and steer the ship back to his port. He couldn't chance being taken to some deserted island in the middle of nowhere to face a mad cap trial.

“Good idea. But you're a bit late, m'dear. I've already found you.”

Gregory spun around to be stopped by the pointed end of a sword. Behind the sword was the man he never hoped to see this end of his sword.

One heated word fell from his mouth, “Cutlass!”

Cutlass raised his grey eyes to hers. They reminded Estelle of a rain-laden sky on the coldest winter morning, dull, completely colorless. And completely devoid of emotion, except only the blackest kind; greed, contempt and murderous intent.

“How did you come by here? How did you find us?” Estelle gasped.

Cutlass laughed. “Believe me, you can't hide for long. I do have a little, how should I say, out of the ordinary help.”

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Estelle said.

“And what would you have to look forward to if you did? I don't know about you, but I enjoy our little … interludes. Gives me a chance to tease that lovely flesh of yours. I see you recovered from our last tête-à-tête without too much loss of blood.” His mouth twisted into what should have been a smile but ended being a smirk. Estelle resisted the urge that would show the shudder that slithered down her spine. Instead she reached to the lip of her boot and withdrew a lethal dagger. “It won't happen again,” she said through clenched teeth.

“Such a shame.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Yet I'm here to make sure of that. Just me, and a few others. You might have met them before.” He raised his sword and aimed it at the both of them.

Figures merged from between trees, moving silently, as if coming from the shadowed nooks and spaces between spaces. Estelle blinked her eyes, trying to focus on the figures. Their silhouettes were indistinct, hazy, like a sun heated mirage. Gradually they solidified and darkened and Estelle saw they were the crew that were on board the ships that attacked them, dressed totally in dull black, holding steel swords all aimed in their direction. Their large brimmed hats covered most of their faces, but Estelle saw the lower parts of their faces, noting that even their chins were a lifeless pallor.